


Past's Entrapment

by RedDragon30000



Category: Agatha Christie's Poirot (TV)
Genre: Gen, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-28
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:48:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27757183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedDragon30000/pseuds/RedDragon30000
Summary: When Poirot leaves the apartment to confront the suspects at the end of his latest case, Julie angers her guardian and his valet by following again, after Poirot tells her to stay in the apartment.
Kudos: 1





	Past's Entrapment

**Author's Note:**

> This story evolved from a desire to see some of Poirot's police instincts come into play, I had a lot of fun writing this one.

It had been a number of months since Felicity Lemon had been in Poirot’s apartment, but as George opened the door to announce her, she could see that it had barely changed. The square and symmetrical furniture, the ornaments that were placed around the living room, the pictures on the walls, they had not changed at all. The only additions were a small chair at the dining-table and a little girl standing in a corner of the room, facing the wall and crying softly. Miss Lemon blinked and looked again, utterly bewildered for a moment, before remembering what Monsieur Poirot had told her in his last letter. Clearly, this must be Julie, Poirot’s ward.

Miss Lemon pursed her lips slightly as she took in the scene that greeted her. From the thunderous glances that Poirot darted in the direction of the child, as well as her current location and the way she was crying and rubbing at her backside, it was clear that she had just been smacked. Miss Lemon was not at all a curious person, and she felt that it was none of her business what had caused this scene just before her arrival. If Monsieur Poirot chose to tell his former secretary what had occurred, that was his own prerogative. Poirot turned his head sharply in surprise as George announced:

“Miss Lemon has arrived, Sir.”

Instantly the anger that Miss Lemon had seen only a moment before was banished as Poirot beamed at her in welcome and rose to his feet.

“My dear Miss Lemon, it is wonderful to see you!”

He welcomed her with the same continental greeting that she had seen him use so often with Captain Hastings. If she had been younger at this moment, she might have felt very uncomfortable at the familiarity and intensity of his greeting, but now he was such a dear friend, that she welcomed it wholeheartedly. Seating herself in the armchair that he indicated; Miss Lemon felt highly amused as Poirot began to press her with a long list of refreshments. Stemming the flow with a request for a simple tea, Poirot nodded and inclined his head towards George, who had been hovering by the door, clearly waiting for such a gesture, as he slipped out in the direction of the kitchen immediately. As Poirot enquired after her sister, Miss Lemon could tell that his attention was slightly divided, as every so often he would glare towards his ward, even though he appeared to be listening fully to her narrative. As Miss Lemon ceased her story, Poirot pulled out his fob-watch, glanced at it, and then spoke to his ward for the first time since Miss Lemon had entered the room.

“Julie, your time in the corner is over. Come to me, if you please.”

Wiping at her eyes, and still crying quietly, Julie came over to where Poirot was sitting in his armchair, stopping right in front of him. He leaned forward, placing his hands on her shoulders. The anger that he had displayed earlier when he looked at the child had now evolved into a stern look. When he spoke, his voice was stern too.

“Julie, I hope you understand now that it is a bad idea to follow me when I am going to confront the suspects in my cases. This is true _especially_ when I tell you to stay here, you completely ignored what Poirot told you, and had I not realised that you were following me, you could have ended up in danger.”

Julie nodded at this, her eyes downcast as she stared at Poirot’s patent leather shoes, rather than look him in the eye. Poirot gently tipped her head up, and when he next spoke to her, his voice had softened noticeably.

“ _Mon enfant_ , Poirot understands more about your actions than you think. It was not just curiosity that drove you to follow me. Like before, you were concerned that I could come to harm. While that may be true, every time I reveal the solution to the suspects in a case, I have back-up in case any of them attempt to hurt me. Are you satisfied?”

Miss Lemon was surprised that Poirot would ask a little girl such a deep question, but he clearly deemed her intelligent enough to understand what he was asking. After a few moments of thought, Julie finally nodded. Poirot smiled.

“ _Bon._ Since you have been punished for your actions, the matter, it is now dropped. Poirot will not bring it up further unless you do it again.”

Silently, Poirot opened his arms, and Julie almost threw herself at him, her crying intensifying. Poirot embraced her tightly, pulling her onto his knee. She sobbed into his shoulder, her eyes shut and her hands fisted into his waistcoat. Poirot gently rocked her and murmured a few soothing words into her ear, before turning his attention back to Miss Lemon with a humorous remark about her cats. Miss Lemon smiled, partly because of that remark, and partly at the heart-warming sight of Poirot comforting his ward. It was clear that he loved her dearly; demonstrated by the evidence that he was not averse to displaying such a large amount of affection towards the child in front of his guests.

As Miss Lemon retorted to Poirot’s remark with a sarcastic defence of the personalities of her cats, Julie slowly stopped crying and opened her eyes, beginning to take an interest in the conversation currently passing above her head. Gradually loosening her grip on Poirot’s waistcoat, she fumbled for a handkerchief, blinking as Poirot stilled her hand by laying his own on hers and absently passing her his own handkerchief.

At this moment, George entered with Miss Lemon’s tea, smiling slightly as he observed that Julie was sitting on Poirot’s lap and no longer crying. Bowing to the occupants of the living room after handing the tea to Miss Lemon, he exchanged a stern look and a faint smile with Julie as he left the room. He was becoming very fond of the child, and even though he felt that she had deserved her punishment, it had made him exceedingly uncomfortable to see her cry. Apparently feeling fortified by being so close to her guardian, Julie joined the conversation by softly requesting more information about Miss Lemon’s cats. Miss Lemon was glad to oblige, and Poirot smiled to himself, glad that Julie had been able engage Miss Lemon on her own and without any prompting at all.

After spending an enjoyable time reminiscing with Poirot and answering Julie’s quiet questions, Miss Lemon reluctantly informed them that she had to take her leave. Poirot and Julie both rose to their feet as Miss Lemon did, Julie feeling comfortable enough about Miss Lemon to hug her in farewell. Miss Lemon returned the hug warmly, very much taken with Poirot’s quiet ward. As she released Julie, Poirot bowed and took her hand, kissing it in farewell. Miss Lemon smiled and squeezed Poirot’s hand for a moment, before picking up her handbag and allowing George to assist her into her coat and hat. As George shut the door behind her, Julie asked:

“May I go to my room?”

Poirot blinked at the question, then smiled down at her before replying,

“ _Certainement_ , but it is close to the dinner hour, so if you plan to read, do not become _too_ absorbed, _hein_?”

Julie giggled at this, before dashing to her room, causing George to hastily flatten himself against the wall as she sped past. George chuckled to himself fondly before preparing to relay the order for dinner to the kitchens that serviced Whitehaven Mansions.

Julie sat down on her bed, wincing slightly as she did so. Her bottom still felt exceedingly sore, and after what had happened earlier that day it was hardly surprising. She had no wish to recall her earlier impulsive action, and what followed, but she knew she had to learn from what had happened. By doing this she hoped to avoid any future punishments and make Monsieur Poirot proud to have her as his ward.

It had begun like any normal afternoon, with Poirot attending to his files to ensure they were complete, and Julie absorbed in a book while lying on the sofa, with her feet up on the cushions at the other end. Julie was so deep in her book that she didn’t hear the door of the study open, or realise that Poirot was there until he scolded her.

“ _Ma petite_ , I know you have found a position that is most relaxing, but please to take your shoes _off_ the sofa _s'il vous plait_.”

Julie promptly removed her shoes, and then settled her feet in the same position. Poirot stared at her in consternation for a moment, before he laughed and ruffled her hair prior to making his way to his bedroom. Julie was startled out of her reading by the sound of something metallic tapping on the cover of her book. She blinked and lowered it, seeing her guardian drawing back the head of his cane from her book. As Julie looked enquiringly at him, she could see that he was dressed in outdoor garments, and wondered where he planned to go. A few moments later, Poirot enlightened her.

“I am on my way to complete a case, which means that I must address a gathering of all the suspects involved. I shall be back very soon, as an old friend is coming to visit me. In the meantime, be good for Georges and _stay here_. I will see you when I return.”

He passed an arm around her shoulders, embracing her briefly, before smiling at her and passing into the hall. Julie watched George help him into his coat and pass him his hat, before Poirot settled his hat into place and left the apartment. Julie fixed worried eyes on the front door, well aware that this case involved a murderer. If Poirot was going to confront the suspects, then there would be a killer among them.

An expression of determination passed across Julie’s face. Even though her guardian had ordered her to stay in the flat, she was intent on following him. She _had_ to make sure he wouldn’t be hurt; she loved him too much to let him walk into danger like that. First however, she had to give George the slip. As she pondered the best way to achieve this, George himself unwittingly provided her with the solution. Putting his head around the door of the living room, he enquired:

“Would you like a drink, Miss Julie?”

Later, George would curse the fact that he did not connect the flash of calculation in her eyes with her planned forbidden excursion. He knew that she could be impulsive, and he would presently make a silent promise to keep her in sight at all times when his master was not in the apartment. She smiled up at him, politely requesting a cup of tea. George bowed and headed to the kitchen to prepare it. Julie knew that this would be the best time to slip out, as George would not hear the sound of the door closing as he prepared her tea. As soon as George was in the kitchen, Julie slipped on her shoes and crept into the hall, shutting the door of the flat behind her as quietly as she could. She had not thought out how she would find Poirot in order to follow him, but as she stood in the corridor, she suddenly captured the scent of the lavender cologne he wore every day. She instinctively knew that if she followed this trail of cologne, she would catch up with him relatively quickly. 

Julie was soon proved correct, as she presently spotted Poirot leaving a large house a moderate distance from Whitehaven Mansions. Always keeping herself pressed to the walls of the buildings Poirot passed, she started to tail him as he made his way to one of the thoroughfares of London, where he planned to catch a taxi. Julie frowned when he slipped down an alley, and she did not see him appear at the other end when she made her way towards it. Just as she was about to emerge, she released a cry of surprise and jumped visibly as her progress was abruptly halted. With a hiss of displaced air, a cane was suddenly thrust horizontally in front of her path, halting at face height. Poirot did not even have to step in front of her for Julie to know he was there, as she had seen the metal swan, which was the unique head of Poirot’s cane. No-one else owned a cane as distinctive as that.

Julie swallowed hard as Poirot advanced towards her, his dark eyes blazing with rage. For his part, Poirot could hardly believe the audacity of the disobedient child in front of him. As he had headed toward one of the busier parts of London, he could not shake the feeling that there was someone following him. This instinct, which had originated in the police force, and was still strong today, was something that he would never ignore. It had been very simple to move too quickly for his pursuer to catch up, and this way he could discover who was following him and what their intentions were. He had used his cane to stop them, as it would give him an advantage should they choose to attack him. Yet when he had stepped into the alley, he could scarcely believe his eyes. His ward, whom he had ordered to remain in the apartment, had once again followed him and utterly disobeyed him. He knew what he would do as soon as they were both safely in his apartment, and he hoped the journey back would allow his anger to cool somewhat. He knew that if he dealt with her when he was this angry, he could end up hurting her. Seizing her hand, he began to resume his journey towards his destination.

Julie immediately felt the difference when Poirot seized her hand, as his grip, which normally felt so gentle and safe, was now hard and possessive. Even if she had attempted to struggle, she knew very well that she would not be able to free her hand until Poirot let go, he was much stronger than he appeared. Poirot soon hailed a taxi and let go of her hand, gesturing brusquely for her to get in first. It was clear now that he would not let her out of his sight. As soon as he had settled next to her on the back seat, he snapped “Whitehaven Mansions, and make haste”. The taxi driver, seeming to sense Poirot’s mood, wisely kept silent and merely nodded as he started the taxi. Julie was not as experienced, and opened her mouth to give excuses. Before she had even uttered a word, Poirot said sharply:

“ _Non!_ Nothing you say to Poirot will make any difference, so you will be quiet!”

She shut her mouth with a click, eyes wide at Poirot’s outburst. If she was honest with herself, she knew he was correct, as she should have waited in the apartment. She was sure that George would have known where her guardian had gone, and he would not object to telephoning Poirot if her worries became too much. 

As soon as they left the taxi at the front of Whitehaven Mansions, Poirot took her hand again, walking across the lobby and entering the lift. Once they were in, and Poirot had pressed the button for the second floor, Julie did not attempt to speak again. Poirot did not acknowledge the child at his side; he merely glared at the lift doors. Once they had exited the lift, Poirot stepped quickly towards his apartment, keeping Julie’s hand gripped in one hand and taking out his keys with the other. Julie was not surprised to see that George was standing in the hall as Poirot opened the door. As soon as he saw Julie, a sudden mixture of anger and relief flashed across the valet’s face. Poirot addressed George as he slipped off his coat, abruptly dropping Julie’s hand.

“Take her into the living room and keep her there. I will return in a few minutes, when I do, only enter the room again when my friend arrives.”

George bowed and replied “Certainly, Sir.” Taking Julie’s hand, he pulled her towards the living room, shutting the door when they were both inside. George dropped her hand as Poirot had done, then stood in front of the door, arms crossed and an incensed expression on his face. Julie gulped when she saw that expression. She had _never_ seen George so visibly angry, as he was usually so good at hiding his emotions, the virtue of being such a well-trained manservant. It seemed that her decision to follow Poirot again had pushed him to the point where his training no longer held his emotions in check. Glaring down at her, he snapped:

“Have you _any_ idea what you did to me when you left the apartment to follow Monsieur Poirot? He left you in _my_ care, which means that while he is out of the apartment, _I_ am the one responsible, should anything happen. It was pure luck that nothing happened, and he found out you were following him. I felt that I had failed in my duty to take care of you.”

Crouching slightly, he seized her by the shoulders, giving her a little shake.

“ _Do not ever do that to me again_. I am fond of you; it would hurt me very much if something happened to you.”

Letting her go, he straightened, guarding the door once again. Julie did not attempt to reply to George’s little speech, as she could tell it was purely rhetorical, and he seemed as angry as Poirot was. He would doubtless tell her to be silent, if she _did_ try to speak to him. A few minutes later, the door opened, and Poirot walked into the room. George bowed and left the living room, shutting the door behind him. Poirot seemed slightly calmer than he had been as he entered the flat, but Julie could tell that he was still very angry. Abruptly seating himself on the sofa, he ordered:

“Come here, _immédiatement._ ”

Julie did as she was told, not at all keen to make Poirot even angrier by resisting. As soon as she was within reach, Poirot angrily jerked her off the carpet and placed her across his knees. As before, he pulled up the bottom of her dress, something that Julie had been expecting. She had guessed how Poirot would punish her as soon as he set eyes on her out of the apartment. What she had _not_ been expecting was an action that filled her with dread, as he abruptly tugged down her knickers. She cringed, knowing that this spanking was going to hurt a lot more than the previous one. She was soon proved correct, yelping as the first swat connected with her bare behind. The sting was so much worse than what she had felt before, and she realised that her knickers had provided more protection than she had recognised at the time. She clutched at Poirot’s trouser leg, whimpering as another smack landed, wishing she had done as he said and stayed in the apartment. Soon, pretty much all other thoughts were banished, as Poirot continued to rain down smacks upon her defenceless backside. She flailed her arms slightly as he targeted her sit-spots, wailing as she felt her backside getting sorer with every additional smack. Poirot was clearly intent that she should learn her lesson thoroughly, and she could tell that she would find it painful to sit down for at least the rest of the day.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, Poirot stopped spanking her. Lifting his arm from her back, he tugged her knickers back up, and then smoothed the bottom of her dress into place, before setting her on her feet and pointing to a corner of the living room.

“You will stay in that corner for twenty minutes, and think about what you did.”

Sobbing, Julie instantly planted herself in the corner that Poirot had indicated. She had hoped that, like last time, her punishment would be over once Poirot stopped spanking her. However, it seemed that he wanted her to think about the incident, whereas before she had done her best to forget about the whole affair. Even though Poirot was still angry with his ward, it had taken every scrap of willpower he possessed to order her into the corner. He wanted nothing more than to take her into his arms and hold her until she stopped crying, but he wanted her to think before she did things, and the only way she would do that was if was forced to focus on what she had done.

Julie was startled out of her reflections by a knock on her bedroom door. Sliding off her bed, she opened it, finding George on the other side. He smiled at her, murmuring:

“Dinner is ready, Miss Julie.”

She nodded, sweeping past him and towards the living room. Throughout dinner, Julie appeared very preoccupied and thoughtful, something that attracted Poirot’s attention immediately. Even though she was shy and quiet in the presence of other people, she had begun to open up to Poirot and George and usually chattered with Poirot during meals. It was only when George was clearing the table that Poirot decided to address the issue. Leaning forward, he gently placed a hand on hers, capturing her attention.

“ _Mon enfant_ , something, it is troubling you. Can you not tell to Poirot what it is?”

Julie blinked, frowning slightly. It was difficult for her to formulate what she would answer, as it was nothing specifically direct. Unconsciously, she gripped Poirot’s hand, squeezing it slightly. At last her hazel eyes met his dark ones as she raised her head, capturing his gaze as she answered his question.

“I...was thinking about when we first met, and how much you have given me since then. Yet I keep throwing it away by ignoring what you tell me. I just want you to be proud of me.”

Poirot did not respond to this question with a verbal answer, as he appeared to be thinking over what Julie had said. However, as if to reassure her, he tightened his hand slightly, squeezing hers in response to her earlier unconscious action. At last he smiled down at her, and said gently:

“I _am_ proud of you. You have come so far in the short time that you have been here. You could have given up, after what you experienced, but you decided to overcome those hardships.”

Sliding out of his seat, Poirot bent down, cradling her face.

“As for ignoring what I tell you, you did so for reasons you believed were right, even if Poirot did not agree with you. Do you truly believe that I will only be proud of you if you behave yourself all the time?”

Julie lent into Poirot’s affectionate caress, rather startled to have her own thoughts reflected back to her. She hesitated for a brief second, wary of revealing her innermost views, even to Poirot. Eventually she made her decision. She knew that she could trust her guardian with what she thought, as he would not use that against her.

“Yes, I do believe that.”

Poirot nodded, as if he had been expecting such an answer, and there was a brief rattle from the opposite end of the table, as George momentarily dropped the plate he had been clearing away back onto the table. It was clear that Julie’s answer had been a shock to him, as George usually _never_ dropped things. Smiling, Poirot slowly shook his head.

“ _Ma petite_ , that is not true. The only reason you think I wish for that is because of what those _people_ made you believe. _Non_ , I will be proud of you even if you are naughty. You are a _child_ , it is natural for you to want to do things you should not.”

Julie took a deep breath, feeling a great amount of relief. It only now occurred to her that she wasn’t expected to be relentlessly perfect. Suddenly grasping Poirot around the waist, she gasped out:

“Do you mean that? Do you _really_ not mind if I do things I should not?”

Returning the embrace, Poirot smiled, replying immediately to her frantic question.

“ _Oui, oui, but of course_ I do not mind! You are always so curious, naturally you will test what will happen if you do what you have been told not to. You know I will always warn you if I feel you are taking things too far.”

At this point, Poirot fixed her with a serious look.

“You are well aware of what will happen if you ignore those warnings. Perhaps once I will be indulgent, but no more than that if there is not a good reason for ignoring my warnings to you.”

Julie nodded at this statement, pleasantly surprised that an adult was allowing her a compromise. Seeing that Julie understood, Poirot continued the embrace for a few more moments before letting her go and heading to his armchair. There was the sound of another plate rattling, and Poirot himself nearly fell over, he was so startled at the innocent and cheerful remark that came from behind:

“Can we get a cat, Oncle Hercule?”


End file.
